


Untitled #1

by ElbridgeGerry



Series: low lie the fields of athenry [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 1 BBY, Auntie Ahsoka, Gen, mentions of the ghost crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28751154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElbridgeGerry/pseuds/ElbridgeGerry
Summary: Padmé worries. Leia gives her more reasons to worry.
Series: low lie the fields of athenry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104737
Kudos: 21





	Untitled #1

“Admiral?”

She has worn many titles in her life. Queen, senator, wife, mother. Admiral is the one she likes the least; it is the only one she hasn’t chosen. It’s a cruel trick of fate that it has become her most important one. 

The young medic hadn’t intended to shake her into a stupor, and her face contorts in embarrassment. She reaches out, takes her hand between hers, and smiles at her. “What’s your name?” The absence of rank at the end of her question hangs heavily in the air. She doesn’t care. They can make her an admiral, but they can’t make her obey the pomp and circumstance. 

“Deshelé Minn, sir.” 

“You’re from Naboo?” 

The medic nods. “Dee’ja Peak.”

Padmé smiles, the warm farmland breeze of her home planet blowing gently through her memories. “I visited once in my youth. It’s a beautiful place.” It had been one of the stops on her first tour of Naboo after the invasion, the first time she’d been able to experience actual peace in a year. The tall grasses had been up to her waist then, and she’d scared her security team by crawling into them, relaxing into the sweet sounds of singing birds and babbling brooks. It had been her last true moment of solitude.

“How long have you been with us, Deshelé?” 

“Since the Bridger transmission.” The girl is younger than Leia and Luke at least, and the Bridger transmission had been broadcast nearly three years ago. She must have been very young indeed when she joined them, yet another child soldier in this endless war.

“It’s good to have another Naboo here. I miss our home more than words can say.” The girl smiles meekly.

“General Dodonna asked me to find you, a new cell has arrived on base.” Padmé nods tightly. She’d been expecting more cells to arrive in the coming months, but this is well ahead of schedule. She won’t turn them away, but they’re going to have to ration resources for a few day cycles until the next shipment from Chandrila is intercepted. They should have enough available bunk space — Loor Tig, the middle-aged Duros in charge of base maintenance, had assured her that they’d completed nearly fifty new multiple-occupancy rooms at the end of the last week. If the new cell has brought ships that need repaired, well that’ll be a different story. Maybe they can send a requisitioning team to Taris... 

She follows the medic through the temple’s labyrinthine corridors to the primary briefing room. The girl stops centimetres from the entrance, rolls her shoulders back into the rigid military posture, and salutes. Padmé places her hand on the girl’s shoulder gently but firmly.

“Thank you, Deshelé.” 

She places her code cylinder into the port, watches as the locking mechanism whirs to life behind it. These locks will probably need to be replaced soon, too many code cylinders have been handed out for them to be fully secure. When the lock’s green light signals its approval, the doors glide open, freshly oiled on their tracks. 

The briefing room is abuzz, evidently they were caught off guard every bit as she was. _Interesting_. Then this new cell is not one of the ones she’s been cultivating. It’s good, yes, it means the movement is spreading to more than those people who she has explicitly courted; but it’s also less good, because their resources are already stretched beyond sustainability. Today is not her first choice for days to bring in new rebels, but she learned many years ago that most things in this campaign would not happen because she chose them. 

Dodonna, looking exhausted and older with every passing day, finds her quickly, leading her through the hubbub towards the doors to the hangar. 

“Admiral Naberrie,” he says in greeting, “we made contact with an Outer Rim rebel cell four hours ago. We weren’t expecting them for another two day cycles, but they ran into some Imperial trouble in the Mustafar System.” She doesn’t flinch. Too many years have passed, too much has changed for her to have an emotional reaction to it anymore. It is but one system among thousands to her now. “Luckily, several Alderaanian ships were returning from Polis Massa, and were able to come to their aid. They arrived thirty minutes ago, and the first shuttles are reaching the planet now.” 

Alderaanian ships? Could it be Bail? Surely he wouldn’t be that risky? Though if it is him, maybe he can leave them with some much-needed supplies. Or if not supplies, then at least some credits to help get them that much closer _to_ supplies. 

Through the brilliant light of Yavin, she can make out the contours of the approaching shuttles. Three of them, enough for a decent ship’s complement, if the only passengers are the new rebel cell. 

The nearest shuttle settles gently on the ground fifty metres in front of them, steam from the hydraulic ramp dissipating quickly in the planetary heat. 

Cham Syndulla’s daughter is exactly what she’d expect. She’s not the tallest, nor the biggest, nor the most imposing member of her crew, but all it takes is a brief glance to know that she is unambiguously in charge. She carries herself in the same way Cham did, the open but strong posture of a natural radical. Padmé hadn’t known that Cham’s daughter had survived this long, but now that she’s here before her, she’s surprised it’s taken them this long to meet. 

Standing next to the younger Syndulla is her own daughter, Leia, many, _many_ light years away from Aldera, where she was _supposed_ to be. Leia has the grace to look a little guilty when she catches her mother’s eye, but the wind has been knocked out of Padmé’s lungs. The daughters of Cham Syndulla and Anakin Skywalker standing side by side. History is alive. 

Leia brings the new recruits forward, whispering animatedly to the group. Leia is only just eighteen years old and already more charismatic, more affable than almost everyone who;d ever walked through the halls of the Galactic Senate. In a better galaxy, Leia could have used that skill to do something that didn’t come with a death sentence. It’s the better galaxy Leia deserves. 

“Admiral Naberrie, General Dodonna,” Leia begins when she’s close enough. Padmé has always hated that Leia calls her by her rank in public, but Leia is even more stubborn than she is, so the rank stays. “This is the Specter crew. Hera Syndulla,” the twi’lek nods politely, “Kanan Jarrus,” the tall man beside her just stares, “Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren…” the two teenagers behind them (more children to endanger). Leia gestures to the Lasat next to them, “and Garazeb Orelios.” A small red and orange astromech rolls angrily into Leia’s leg, who bursts out laughing. “Oh, of course, and C1-10P, better known as Chopper.” 

“So the rumours are true then, Senator Amidala _did_ survive,” the man, Kanan, says, looking shell-shocked. She scans him; long hair pulled back behind his head, a closely cropped beard, battered fatigues and a shoulder guard, a blaster holster and — her eyes snap back up to his face. 

_Jedi_. 

She reaches for each of their hands in turn, shaking them firmly. 

“Welcome to the Rebellion, Specters.” 

•° 

Leia bows her head when she laughs at Padmé yelling at her. It’s the most frustrating habit, it’s so thoroughly her father. Pamdé has no idea where she picked it up, until Ahsoka turns fully around to hide her laughter, and Padmé realises that she has spent eighteen years exposing her children to the worst influences in the galaxy. 

“It’s fine mom, honestly,” Leia says in her own defence. She’s picking up that clipped Coruscanti lilt, maybe it’s for the best that she left Alderaan. 

“No, Leia, it’s not fine. You need to tell me when you do these things, even if it’s just comming an intermediary who can get the message to me. You can’t go gallivanting across the galaxy on Rebellion projects without letting me know! What was Bail thinking letting you go without telling me?” She crosses her arms, trying to back off the anger in her voice. She’s not angry, she’s just upset, and retrospectively terrified. 

“Uncle Bail said, and I think he was right, that I would be more than fine in Auntie Ahsoka’s protection.” 

Ahsoka turns around and proffers a shrug by way of explanation. She knows — they all know — that Padmé can’t disagree there. There are vanishingly few people in this galaxy that Padmé would trust her kids with, and Ahsoka has been at the top of the list since the day they were born. 

“Besides,” Leia continues, the political formality dropping with each new sentence, “I’ve never been able to do a rescue mission before, it felt good to get that out of my system.” 

Padmé blinks, horrified by what Leia said. The idea of a rescue mission not only being something on her radar as a thing to do, but something that _felt good_? It’s too much. She knew she’d be unable to shelter her kids from the cruelty of this war forever, but to hear her own daughter treat it so casually?

“We’re not staying for long,” Ahsoka cuts in, moving back towards Padmé. “Those ships were on loan to get us in and out of Polis Massa, the Alderaanians need them back.” Padmé nods, still slightly nauseated. 

“Long enough for me to see the new Jedi,” Leia says, defiant. Ahsoka turns on her at the same time Padmé does, and for once they are a unified parenting unit. “He’s dreamy.” 

“Leia, he’s much too old for you—,”

“—Emotional unavailability isn’t sexy.” 

Leia stifles her laughter as her guardians chide her in unison. 

Padmé stares at Ahsoka. 

_"Emotional unavailability isn’t sexy?"_ She repeats, baffled. Ahsoka’s eyes are as wide as saucers. And then —

Laughter. 

It’s like the heavens opening up a flood of rain on a drought-scarred plain. Leia’s defences collapse, and she’s almost doubled-over against the briefing table, her laughs coming so quickly they’re almost wheezes. Ahsoka has maintained vertical integrity, but her hand has come up to her face in an attempt to cover her scrunched-up features. Padmé, for her part, falls into her seat, laughter ringing out loudly into the room.

This, this is the one thing she can choose. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
